The Flame of Prometheus (The Prometheus Project Book 1), page 14
“Of course not,” she murmured under her breath. Aletheia sauntered over and plopped herself on the bed, crossing one long leg under her. “Look.” Her voice was a stern whisper. “I don’t give a damn where you came from. Honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck if you are a Rebel spy. Not my problem.”
The shock across my face was genuine because she should care—Aletheia was a Coalition soldier. Then again, as I stared into the Private’s brown eyes, I realized that besides clothing and fashion, Aletheia didn’t give much of a damn about anything.
“But if you are going to sell this ruse, you have got to be better because she…” Aletheia pointed to Callum’s living room, where Bellona worked remotely from her COM-tab. “She’s not buying it. Any damn prostitute in Media would know how to do make-up. I know for a fact there is a black market down there for the stuff we use up here, and most of it goes straight to the brothels.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but she lifted a hand to silence me.
“Don’t. Whatever the fuck you’re going to say, do not say it. I don’t want you to think you can trust me, because you can’t. So don’t.
“However, I am in a good mood from ditching training all day, so I will help you. But tonight, you use that holo”—Aletheia pointed to the screen in the corner of the room—“and you do some damn research on makeup. And you better fucking believe Callum and Bellona will be surveying your search history, so if either of them asks why, you tell them you want to know the latest trends to fit in better.” She studied me. “And do not erase anything you search for. That is a red flag. They will find out everything and anything you do on any holo or COM-device. And you will get caught and questioned.”
For the first time, I wondered if Aletheia was a Resistance agent—if she really did want to help me but couldn’t because that would put her own mission at risk. The question formed on my tongue, but to even ask if she was Resistance would only confirm her suspicions of me.
Aletheia stood up, uncurling her long, lean legs in a fluid motion, then leaned down. Her lips were to my ear and her dark coils tickled my neck as she whispered, “Do not get comfortable, or you will slip up, and we will take you down.”
We.
Her words were as much a threat as they were a warning. No. She wasn’t Resistance. She could be messing with me, but her tone was too real. Too raw. It was the truth. Aletheia never did anything unless she was ordered to or if it suited her best interests, so I assumed, for whatever reason, turning me in right now did not suit the Private’s best interests.
“Now, go sit down at the desk,” she said loudly. “I’ll show you how to not look like a Median Mistress.”
Light footsteps tapped outside of the guest room and into the living room. Bellona was listening. And Aletheia knew. She had timed everything perfectly—she knew exactly when Bellona got curious, when to start whispering, and when to end the conversation.
“I’m not sure you’re the one for the job, Private,” Bellona quipped loudly, her voice echoing through the walls, probably trying to cover up her footsteps.
Aletheia turned to me and flicked her brows up. Yes. She was exactly who I should watch out for.
“Don’t you have anything, ugh, I don’t know, more revealing?” Aletheia called from my closet as I sat at the guest bedroom’s vanity. Powder and the scent of burning hair hung thick around me.
“I thought I was supposed to put a damper on the ‘Brothel Mistress’ aesthetic.”
“This will do, I guess.” Aletheia pulled out a black dress and ordered me to put it on with a pair of tights she threw at me. I complied. The sleeves of the dress reached to just above my elbow, and each side of my waist was cut out to reveal bare skin opening to the back. An intricate golden embroidery stretched across my breasts, curling down to just above the knees, forcing eyes to wander along my curves. Aletheia helped me button up the back of my dress and picked out black booties to wear that laced up to my ankle.
“Just one more thing.” Aletheia poked through her purse and pulled out a deep crimson lipstick. “Perfect,” she purred after she swiped the color across my lips a few times. My skin felt heavy from all the makeup she’d painted on my face.
She pulled me toward the door, and my knees buckled under the odd pressure of walking in heels, but my body was fit and adjusted quickly.
Opening the door, Aletheia chimed in only a way her low, caressing voice could, “One date for the General.”
Date? My pulse pounded in my chest.
Callum turned on his stool. He was sitting at the kitchen island, a crystal glass in hand. His emerald eyes twinkled a little, brows lifting in either surprise or awe.
My cheeks heated.
“Great,” Callum croaked. He cleared his throat before continuing. “We are expected soon.” The Lieutenant General stood up and swung his drink back, draining the glass in one easy gulp. After setting the empty glass down on the marble counter, one ice cube clinking gently in the glass, Callum straightened his white button-up shirt and black jacket.
I glanced around the flat. “Where is the Major General?” I asked gently.
“Gone. She had work to do and didn’t want ‘to waste any more of her time,’” Callum mocked. “Theia, can you grab Adellaide’s coat, please?”
She rolled her eyes, mumbling something about not being his mutt, but acquiesced. When Aletheia came back, I shrugged on my ebony coat and glanced down at myself, noticing my lack of color. I felt a little more like Rowyn. Though, I wasn’t sure how Adellaide felt about it.
“I must look like a shadow,” I said.
Callum shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t care much for color, anyway.”
I smiled slightly. “Me neither.”
Callum held out an arm for me to take. It was strong and hard and steadied me as I wobbled on my heels.
“Okay, have fun, kids.” Aletheia waved us off as she lounged on the couch.
Callum halted, turning his head back to her. “No. You are leaving, too. Go home. Do something productive with your life.”
“Well, there is this guy I met today that wanted to hook up…” she trailed off.
“Not what I meant,” Callum said in a stern voice, but Aletheia’s eyes remained focused on her nails as she picked at them. “Whatever, just don’t have him over here.” Callum turned back toward the door and whistled for Sirius to follow us.
The hybrid snuck out the entrance like a ghost escaping the light.
“Sirius is coming?”
Callum nodded. “He’s been cooped up all day. Besides, he loves to chase the squirrels through my parents’ garden.”
My heart stopped—my whole body stopped, pulling Callum to a halt. “That’s where we are going? To your parents’?”
Excitement should have been what rattled my bones. Instead, terror struck my body like lightning.
“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. “I have dinner with them every Friday.”
I knew if there was any information about my father, it would lay with the Osoufs—specifically Callum’s mother—but meeting his parents would greatly increase the chance of someone discovering my real identity.
“I can just stay here.” I dug my feet into the hard floor. “I promise I won’t try to leave or anything. I will just watch the holo with Aletheia or something.”
Callum gave me a wicked smile, and my heart stilled. “I don’t think so,” he said and led me out the door.
CHAPTER 15
Sirius bounded ahead of us as we strolled up the walkway lined with bare cherry blossom trees, and my mind whirled from dejá vu.
The grand, white stone house stretched before us, magnificent steps yawning up to the opulent Lyptus front door intricately carved with whorls and knots like streams of water. It also bore three glass panes, each covered with vines and flowers molded from iron and matching the door knocker and knob. However, what caught my eye was perched above the door. Looking down upon us and every other guest who had entered this home was a stone Direwolf. The beast’s teeth were bared—its maw open wide to reveal large canine sabers—and it looked as though it was bounding out of the woods in attack. It was surrounded by knots, similar to those on the door, and shining from the marble animal were two emerald eyes.
“It’s our family emblem,” Callum said and then clanked the iron knocker three times.
I nodded. I remembered staring at a similar Direwolf in Militum. It scared me as a child, but now it felt more nostalgic. Somehow, it felt like home. I turned toward Callum, and his eyes seemed to dance in the lantern light, similar to the sparkling jewels that loomed over us.
The door opened, a stout butler greeting us with a silent nod as he swung the door wide. Callum led us into an ornate foyer with marble flooring made of all different colors that twisted and twined in more vines and branches. Above us, light bounced off an opulent crystalline chandelier with a gold-flaked frame carved into leaves and flowers of impeccable design. I felt like I had wandered into an enchanted forest from a storybook.
The butler helped remove my coat for me, and as I finished peeling off my outer layer, I noted the windows with long velvet curtains of forest green and gold and the enormous staircase matched in color and patterns to the front door. I was entranced by the beauty and wonder of this manor. My heart fluttered each moment I noticed something new, and my breath kept escaping me in waves of awe.
I was brought back to reality as a light but sturdy hand rested against the bare skin of my back. I looked to my right to see Callum staring down at me intently, his slight smile burning into me like a brand. The curve of my spine grew warm and tingly at his touch, and I fought the blush that threatened to bloom on my cheeks.
The Lieutenant General nodded his head to the right and pressed his hand more firmly into me, leading us to the next room. We walked through glass French doors into a dining room as equally exquisite as the foyer but in a different way. Deep blue covered the walls, and dark wood was the choice for all of the furniture. Little accents of gold and deep green flitted around the room, finding themselves in vines on the curtains, branches on the plates, flowers flowing from vases, and gilded leaves on the fixtures.
“Oh, Callum, dear! Hello, hello!” An old woman chimed from across the room. Well, not old…but not exactly young either. The woman’s hair was the color of sea salt and cracked pepper, long, with gentle waves pulled back at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were blue and bright with wisdom, but where I expected wrinkles to deeply crease along her eyes and mouth, there were none. Her voice warbled with years of use, though the woman who greeted Callum looked no more than forty-five.
“Amma. You are looking stunning as usual.” Callum greeted the woman with a peck on each cheek. Her smile was pure and genuine, a light blush kissing her cheeks at his compliment.
She patted his left cheek softly. “Oh, my boy. You are too kind.” The woman peered behind Callum to meet my gaze. “And I did not realize you were bringing a guest!” The woman nudged Callum out of the way, nearly shoving him over to get to me. “And a beautiful one at that.” She winked at him while passing.
I held out a hand to the woman. “Adellaide.” I forced a gentle smile onto my lips despite the thundering of my heart deep in my chest that reverberated through my whole body.
“What a lovely name! So very lovely.” She grasped my hands gently, and hers felt cold against my skin, but they were soft as satin. The scent of mulling spices and rosewood fluttered in the air around me as she pecked my cheek. “I am Callum’s grandmother, Rheamarie, though you can call me Amma if you would like. I know a couple of Callum’s little friends do. But it is whatever you prefer, dearie.”
Rheamarie removed her hands from mine and turned to take Callum by the shoulders, shaking him a little. “Oh, this is so exciting! Your Afi will be so happy!” She clapped her hands together, the several rings adorning her fingers glittering in the candlelight before she pushed through a swinging door adjacent to the foyer’s entrance. Through the wall, I heard Callum’s grandmother talk to who I assumed was Callum’s grandfather. Something about a ‘young lady,’ and I started to wonder if Callum had ever brought a girl to a family dinner before.
I sucked on my bottom lip when Callum turned to me. “That is my Amma…”
I quietly nodded, glancing around the room. “Your parents have a beautiful home.”
“Thank you. Before we moved to Imperium about eight years ago for my father’s job, my parents built this manor as an exact replica of their home in Militum.”
“Do they still own the property?”
Callum nodded. “Yes. My mother’s parents live there now, and we visit them on occasion. It kind of serves as a vacation home. Though, since it looks exactly like this one, it doesn’t feel like much of a vacation, and when I do go to Militum, I usually have work to attend to.”
“And what does your father do?”
“He sits on the Council of Delegates. Look…” Callum combed his fingers through his hair. “I know you didn’t expect this…”
I eyed him wearily. “I just don’t understand why I am here.”
“I—” The door behind Callum swung open softly, cutting him off. Another woman strode into the dining room, a woman I vaguely recognized. My mind started pulling at the strings of memory, trying to match this woman’s face to a name.
“Ah, Callum, nice to see you.” The woman’s voice was cold and indifferent as she breezed by Callum, her straight white hair shifting gently with her brisk movements. She adjusted a glistening table setting, slightly tapping each piece of flatware this way and that as if arranging them to perfection. She then proceeded to walk around the dining room, modifying the bouquet of flowers and the ferns in the middle of the grand table.
And as the word started to form on Callum’s lips, the name clicked.
“Mother…” Callum started.
Dr. Freyja Osouf. This was the woman who worked with my father.
I tried to make myself small, not wishing for this woman to see me, but to my delight, Callum’s mother was far too preoccupied at the moment.
“Eunice! Eunice, are these really the flowers that were ordered? They look absolutely horrendous!” The stiff-backed woman shouted curtly in no particular direction and to no particular person as she stood across the table from me. Her hair was platinum and cut at her shoulders, framing her oval face and high cheekbones. She wore a white dress with gold buttons, and her shoulders were covered with a gold lace caplet.
“Mother,” Callum tried again, his voice deep and stern now. Her eyes darted up toward me instead of to her son.
I swallowed the knot in my throat.
“This is Adellaide.”
The woman’s quick-silver eyes bore into mine as she straightened. My skin went cold. She tugged on her dress and swiped at the fabric to loosen the wrinkles she may have caused by bending over before she strode around the table and back to her son’s side. She looked me up and down, then extended a hand.
“Freyja.” Her introduction was hard and short, but there was no glimmer of recognition in her eyes.
I relaxed. It seemed that fate had dealt me a hand I couldn’t throw away. “Pleasure,” I said, taking her hand. Freyja gave one short shake, then promptly removed her hand from mine.
The mother turned to her son. “I thought I told you Laurunda would be joining us this evening.” She chided her son, her voice tight and quiet but just loud enough for me to hear. I stiffened.
Callum smiled. “I thought since you were bringing a friend,”—his arm curled around my waist—“I could bring one as well.” I felt the heat rise from my neck to my cheeks, leaving the rest of my body chilled and clammy. Freyja’s eyes returned to mine as she offered a cold smile.
“Eunice!” The matron of the house yelled, again to no one and nowhere in particular. “Eunice, set another place at the table! It seems we have another dinner guest!” Freyja looked me up and down one last time before marching out of the room.
Rheamarie was correct. Callum’s ‘Afi,’ Odin, was indeed very excited to meet me. Odin seemed even more kind than his wife, though a bit more reserved. He emanated a grandfatherly peace, and I was grateful to be sitting next to him at the dinner table. A woman named Laurunda arrived at the door very shortly after the maid, Eunice, had finished resetting the table. She stood two inches shorter than I in her golden heels that were strikingly similar to the luminescent color of her hair, half of which was pulled back, showcasing her graceful neck and bright, sapphire eyes. Her full lips were light pink, complimenting the soft blue of her dress, which was made of near-see-through material that hung from a thick bronze collar around her neck.
Freyja greeted Laurunda enthusiastically and with a kiss on the cheek as she handed the young lady’s coat to the butler. “Ah, Laurunda, donning blue as usual,” Freyja observed.
“Oh, you know Senator Osouf.” Laurunda’s voice sounded like wind chimes on a summer breeze. “He prefers me to wear blue. It soothes him.” She smiled sweetly to Freyja, and Callum’s mother returned the sentiment, though it didn’t quite meet her eyes.
“Oh, Callum!” Laurunda chirped, embracing him tightly. “It is so good to see you again.” Callum hesitantly wrapped an arm around the small woman, patting her gently on the back.
“You too, Laurunda,” he said through tight lips.
“Oh, you know to call me Auri.”
And I want to hurl.
Laurunda stepped back, both hands lingering on Callum’s biceps. “Wow, you have gotten so strong!” Callum tried to keep her at a distance with both his hands propped on her small hips an arm’s length away.
“I saw you three weeks ago, Laurunda.” Callum gave a quick glance in my direction as if silently pleading for help. And suddenly, I knew why I was here.
Well, fuck him. Callum was willing to take a girl out of slavery just to make her a pawn in his games.
